Beware of the friends you make. Jen One is spending this weekend doing whacky wedding things with her friends. Jen Two is spending it on the Cape, where her friend has a house. And my friends? They invited me down to Dorchester so I could help them move. To the third freaking floor of an elevator-less triple decker. I tried to time my arrival close to lunch and succeeded in missing most of the work involving couches and dressers, but Katie and Liz, they're greedy little hoarders and had plenty else for me to move. Not that I did a spectacular job of helping. I don't know if you've noticed, but other than that move-3-person-backseat-into-the-van-unaided incident, I don't use my physical strength for much. I generally let other people do the heavy lifting and just touch my hands on the couch so it looks like I'm helping. But that plan doesn't really work when you're moving a mattress/dresser/heavy box with only 2 people. So it was yesterday, the moons aligned perfectly to form that rare occasion where I did not automatically ace whatever task was handed me. Instead, there was a lot of trapping myself between shelf frames, panting, and scratching hard wood floors. Now if you'll excuse me, I must search for friends to trade up. Preferably one with a roomy beach house and ski lodge in Aspen. And moving companies. Keep your ears open, will ya?
PS. The title is not a commentary on the day, dumbass.
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